to First Street, half a dozen more men and a few women had joined the old men in the back of the wagon. Seth urged the team past the now-deserted railroad station and south alongside the creek after which the town had been named.
He spotted a thin line of black smoke before he came within sight of the train. The engine and tender were overturned, and men worked at putting out fires along the tracks. The hazard of a prairie fire seemed to be under control. The foremost passenger cars had been overturned, and beyond those the stock cars were detached and had skidded together in a zigzag pattern.
The wailing of crying infants and children could be heard, along with shouts of men and whinnying horses. Other townspeople had arrived, as well. A few women offered water and assistance to passengers seated or lying on the sloping ground.
Seth set the brake handle and helped Old Horace down, then joined one of the small groups of men gathering to search cars.
“You’re strong and agile, Halloway.” Chesley Lawton, the portly gray-haired barber, gestured to him. “Come with our group.” He glanced over Seth’s shoulder. “You, too, young fella.”
The five men passed the closest cars and made their way farther along the tracks. A snake slithered from behind a rock and disappeared into the grass ahead. Seth chose a car no one had reached and surveyed the exposed underside facing them. He found hand-and footholds and climbed upward, another young man joining him. Finding the doorway, Seth sidled inside.
Two dozen passengers, having found no way to reach the doors or windows above them, appeared visibly shaken with various cuts and bruises. Together the men helped move debris and assisted women and children out and down to safety. The men made their way out last.
“Anyone still in here?” Satisfied everyone had escaped, Seth climbed out.
The young fellow beside him stuck out a hand as they headed for the next car. “Freddie Simms.”
“Seth Halloway.”
Entering the next car didn’t go as smoothly. The door was jammed and blocked. Freddie ran ahead of him to the front and yanked open the metal door. The cowboy led a group of frightened passengers out of the railcar.
“No wonder the rear door didn’t open.” Once inside, Seth surveyed the destruction. An entire row of seats had come loose and, along with a piece of interior ceiling, were piled at that end. He located an unconscious man with a head wound and kneeled to press his ear to the fellow’s chest. Freddie returned to stand behind him. “Heart’s beating.”
Together, they got the man as far as the doorway, and then shouted for help to get him down the twisted platform to the ground. The three on the ground took the unconscious person’s weight and Freddie helped ease him onto the grass.
Seth turned back inside. “Anyone here?” he called. Crunching broken window glass beneath his boots, he maneuvered toward the rear one more time. A muffled sound caught his attention. The size of the pile blocking the door prevented him from spotting anyone trapped beneath.
He kept searching, moving aside mangled metal and splintered wood. The car lurched, settling beneath him, and his heart jumped. He’d surveyed the ground by the railcar before entering, and there was nowhere for it to slide, so the movement was unsettling, but didn’t pose a threat. The battered seats and metal overhead were a true concern however.
He shoved aside a valise to discover a pair of women’s feet encased in high-top black boots. He wrapped his hand around her ankle and felt for a pulse. The leg moved, along with the dust-covered fabric of her skirt. He let go and wrenched away the cushions and frames, exposing a space where the fallen seats had formed a protective barrier. After dislodging the seats, he discovered a huddled woman and three children. He stifled his amazement and asked, “Are you all right?”
“I—I think so.”
The reverend, Virgil Taggart, joined Freddie behind him. He breathed a prayer of thanks and reached to take the children’s hands one at time. All three boys’ faces were tear-streaked and the youngest’s jagged breathing demonstrated his fear and recent crying. Freddie picked up the smallest one and herded the others toward the door.
“Come on, ma’am.” Seth helped the woman to her feet. She was taller than he’d expected—younger as well. Her red-gold hair had fallen from its mooring and hung over her shoulder in a shiny wave, with hairpins protruding. “You and your boys are safe. We’ll get you all to a doctor.”
“Peony is still under that pile somewhere.” The young woman backed away from the reverend’s outstretched hand and stepped closer to Seth. Her wide hazel eyes, with flecks of gold and green, had the uncanny ability to plead with his sensibilities. “I can’t leave her.”
Startled at that disturbing information, Seth turned back to the corner where he’d found them. Another child buried, injured or worse? “Where was she?”
“Right beside me when the train crashed, but I’m afraid all the shifting debris has covered her.”
“Get back.” He grasped her by the upper arms and moved her. Clearing away twisted metal, he got on his belly and pressed farther into the space from where he’d only just uncovered the passenger and her other children.
A mewling similar to a baby’s drove a shiver up his spine. An infant? Lord, help me find her and get her out of this.
The sound came again, much louder this time.
“That’s her! That’s Peony!”
He spotted a small cage at the same time the woman’s voice and the feline squalling registered. “A cat? Peony is a cat?”
“Do you see her?”
The railcar shifted again.
“Come on, lady!” Freddie bellowed. “I’ve got her. Get out of there, Halloway!”
Seth inched closer, reached for the cage and inched backward. Backing out of the narrow space wasn’t as easy as going forward. He had to push with his elbows and wrists and then scoot the cage along, a fraction at a time. Finally, he had his body out of the tunnel, but a loud creak from above alerted him to imminent danger. He threw his arm over his head a split second before an unhinged seat broke loose.
* * *
Seth’s shoulder and wrist throbbed under what he guessed, due to the numbing cold, was an ice pack. He opened his gritty eyes and squinted against the light that was making his head hurt. He didn’t recognize the room or the pungent earthy smells. The pain in the other hand was appallingly familiar. He’d taken more than one shot during the war, as well as a couple after. A groan escaped his lips.
“Mr. Halloway.” The soft voice near his side added to his disorientation. “Are you in pain?”
Ivory-skinned and hazel-eyed, with a halo of red-gold hair, the woman from the train came into view. She’d rearranged the shiny mass back on her head and had only a scrape on her chin as a result of the ordeal. “You fared well,” he said, barely managing to get the words out.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”
“And the children?”
“They have a few bumps and bruises from the crash, but they’re safe.”
He closed his eyes with grim satisfaction.
“I’m Marigold Brewster.”
If she was one of the brides, she was certainly a young widow. And more power to the man willing to take on all those kids. “Seth Halloway.”
“I know. The other men told me your name. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“I’m glad you and your boys are all right. Reverend Taggart must’ve been praying the whole while.”
“Well, that’s the thing...”
His head throbbed and the light hurt. He closed his eyes. “What’s the thing?”
“They’re